


The Way I Look at You

by indecisive (darling_highness)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, depending on what you consider happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 10:28:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8368831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darling_highness/pseuds/indecisive
Summary: The prompt for this read as follows "Jack rushing home, seeing bitty at the hospital, broken leg and bandaged head. Falling down on his knees and apologizing as the steady beep-beep-beep of eric's heart monitor drone in the distance. He's not expected to wake up. Jack blames himself. He never skates again."





	1. How Fragile You Look

**Author's Note:**

> So this piece is sort of a choose your own adventure. It has two endings: one being closer to the prompt posed to me, and another where the ending is a bit happier! So, if you want to read the sad ending, go to chapter 2, and if you want the happy ending, go to chapter 3. Chapter 1 is the same beginning for both!

It’s Jack’s first season with the Falconers when it happens. The team just won another home game with Jack’s hat trick pulling them into the lead just before the end of the final period. The team is joking and undressing when Jack pulls his phone out to ask Bittle how their game against Yale went. The notifications filling his lock screen stops him in his tracks. Red flags are going off in his head.  There seems to be messages from everyone- 2 calls from Ransom, texts from his mother, a voicemail from his father, and so many more. Immediately he gets the feeling something’s wrong. The time stamps all show that they’re from about 15 minutes into the game, so it wouldn’t be congratulations. A sick sort of feeling pools low in Jack’s stomach as his mind sorts through all the possibilities of what happened. All he can think is _this is bad, bad, bad_.

He listens to his father’s voicemail first. “Jack,” it starts, “Eric… He had an accident during their game. Paramedics took him to Massachusetts General. I’m sorry, son. Your friends called me because they couldn’t reach you… I’m so sorry…  _Dieu,_ ” At this point, Bob’s voice cracks, “That poor boy…” The message fades into silence. It’s all Jack needs to hear.

Jack’s fingers are white, and his face isn’t much better. He feels as though he’s going to vomit, or maybe pass out. “Oh, God,” he whispers. All happiness has faded from his being, and the only thing he feels is a sense of urgency.

Snowy looks over at him. His grin fades immediately into a look of concern. “Jesus, Jack. You look like you just saw a ghost. What’s wrong?”

“I have to go,” is all Jack can seem to say. He can’t think, can’t do anything but pull his pants and his shoes on as fast as he can. “I have to go,” he repeats, this time a little louder. He’s not sure if he’s talking to himself or Snowy at this point.

Once he’s dressed, he grabs his things and rushes for the doors of the dressing room. The press is waiting for them, and as soon as the doors open, a torrent of camera flashes and voices assault his senses. Jack pushes through the crowd, keeping his head low and sprinting for his car once he breaks free of them. Panic constricts his lungs, making it difficult for him to draw a full breath. He’s vaguely aware that he needs to get his breathing under control if he wants to avoid an all out panic attack, but he need’s to get to Bitty first.

Thankfully, the hospital is only a 10 minute drive from the rink. Jack makes it in 6.

***

The nurse in the emergency room about jumps out of her skin when Jack appears in the window, panting and red-faced. Her eyes are as wide as saucers, but Jack appears to have her full attention.

“I need to see Eric Bittle. Please! I need to see him right now!” Jack barely manages those few sentences, his throat is so tight with fear. His body seems to be doing everything to trip him up.

“Sir, you need to sit down and wait until I can confirm if you’re able to visit him. If you could just leave your name with me…” The nurse is cut off halfway to handing Jack a pen and a clipboard when a familiar voice reaches them.

“Jack! Oh my god! I thought I heard you!” Holster grips Jack’s shoulder and turns him so they’re making eye contact. Holster says something to the nurse and then he’s leading Jack down a hallway and into an elevator. Jack’s heart is pounding so loud in his ears he doesn’t even try to register the exchange.

Once they’re standing in the lift, Jack looks up at Holster. “Adam,” he murmurs. “What happened to Bitty?”

Holster looks down at him with an apologetic frown. He wraps an arm around Jack’s shoulders and pulls him into a hug. Jack can feel the vibrations of his voice in his chest when he speaks. “He got checked twice in the third period. The first guy checked him into the boards and his helmet came off. Second guy was coming to take the puck and lost control. Brought them both down on the ice with Bitty underneath. They pulled him out and called for a timeout to clean up the blood. When they noticed Bitty was unconscious, they took him to MG. He was already in surgery when we got here.”

“Surgery,” Jack echoes. He feels numb as his fingers curl into the fabric of Holster’s sweatshirt. When the elevator door opens, Jack breaks away. “What room is he in?”

“412,” Holster replies without hesitation, pointing down the hall leading left. Jack wants to run, but he’s tired. He’s tired from the game, from this stress, from life. So he lets himself be led to the room. Looking into the window, he sees Bitty, sure enough. As they enter, all eyes turn from the bed. The entire SMH is there. They make way for Jack. Holster hangs back with the group.

Bitty’s eyes are closed. He looks almost peaceful, aside from the slight crease between his brows. Stark white bandages encircle his head. Like a halo, Jack thinks. A purplish bruise is curling its way up the back of Bitty’s neck and towards his jaw. Jack immediately reaches for the hand laying above the covers, his fingers curling into Bitty’s limp ones. He needs to feel Bitty.

“Oh, God,” Jack moans, the reality of it all hitting him like a train. His throat tightens with the onset of tears. Jack bows his head, pressing Bitty’s knuckles to his lips.

The room is quiet aside from the dismal beeping coming from monitors attached to Eric. The door to the room clicks open and shut once more, but Jack pays no attention. A steady stream of apologies fall from his lips. Tears stain his flushed cheeks. Jack is rocking slightly. He hasn’t felt this lost since his overdose. His heart aches. He longs for Bitty’s soft smile, his kind eyes.

He’s losing himself in his thoughts, his solemn mantra of _I’m sorry, so so sorry_ , when he feels something. Bitty’s fingers tighten around his. Just as suddenly as Bitty gripped his hand is he releasing again. Jack lifts his head, drawing a sharp breath. He thinks for a moment Bitty’s eyelashes just fluttered.


	2. I See the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sad ending! If you want the happy ending, go to chapter 3!

“Don’t get your hopes up, son,” a worn voice says. “It is quite common for comatose patients to experience muscle spasms.”

Jack looks up to the doctor beside him. He’s looking down at Bitty, but his eyes move to Jack’s after a time. “As I’ve told the others, it’s unlikely that Mr. Bittle is going to ever wake up.”

“What? I- What? No… No! that can’t be! He has to wake up!” His voice is straining, begging. His world is collapsing around him and all he can do is watch. He’s just now noticing how much his hands are trembling. He clutches the sleeve of the doctor’s coat, a pleading look on his face. “You have to do something- anything! Please… There must be something you can do!”

The doctor dons a passive expression, nothing in his features giving any idea as to what he’s thinking. “We’ve taken all the action we can. There’s nothing left to do but to keep him comfortable.”

Jack’s making these little punched out sounds, gripping Bitty’s hand to his chest with both of his now. He looks away from the doctor and into Bitty’s smooth features. He wonders if this is how his parents felt when he was in the hospital. Grief, sorrow, loss. It cuts him deeper than any emotion he’s ever felt before, and all he can do to express it is sob.

***

After what feels like an eternity of laying beside Eric, stroking his cheeks, ghosting fingertips over the curve of his nose, the bone of his brow, and multiple attempts from hospital staff to make him go home, a warm hand grasps his bicep. Jack looks up to see Alexei looking down on him, empathy etched into his features. “Jack… Is late. I take you home, yes? No sense in this.”

Before Jack can even protest, Alexei is pulling him up from the bed with an insistent yet gentle grip. Jack releases Bitty’s hand as he stands. His legs feel weak. He leans down and kisses Bitty’s forehead, the tears that had once again been welling in Jack’s eyes falling onto the pale locks swept over his forehead. Alexei leans past Jack to press his palm to Bitty’s cheek. “бедняга,” he sighs. They stand in silence a few moments longer, Jack’s shoulders shaking with noiseless sobs. Then, Alexei leads him away and to his car.

 


	3. I'll Bring You Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy ending :)

“Bitty?” Jack whispers. He leans in, eyes searching Eric’s unmoving features.

Someone behind Jack clears his throat before saying, “It’s unlikely that he can hear you.”

Jack turns to the doctor. “Will he be okay?”

The doctor shrugs one shoulder. “The prognosis suggests he could eventually wake up. Though, that could take days, perhaps weeks. We have eased the pressure the injury caused on his brain, so it looks like no serious damage has been done to the reticular activating system or grey matter surrounding Mr. Bittle’s brain. He was lucky one of our more gifted neurosurgeons was on call this evening.”

Jack nods, trying to process everything he’s just been told through the fog of fatigue that has settled over his mind.

***

Jack comes back to the hospital as often has he can. One time he’s there when Mr. and Mrs. Bittle are visiting. When Suzanne sees him, a new flood of tears runs down her cheeks and she buries her face in Jack’s chest. He doesn’t know what to say, but he understands.

Most of the time, it’s just him and Eric. He traces the lines of Bitty’s face with gentle fingertips, carful not to jostle the breathing tube running from the corner of Bitty’s mouth to a nearby machine. He observes Bitty with a quiet reverence. Jack knows bitty can’t hear him, so he says nothing, opting to view him in his sleeping form instead.

***

He’s there when Bitty wakes up. Two weeks after the accident, Jack is sitting in his usual chair, shadowed eyes peering quietly at Bitty. Jack’s thumb strokes over the back of his boyfriend’s hand as he’s taken to doing. When Bitty’s hand spasms, he thinks nothing of it. He’s learned that that sort of thing just happens with patients like this. It happens again. Bitty wrenches his hand from Jack’s, his muscles seizing and his back arching. His eyes open with a start and his hand immediately goes for the tube in his mouth. Jack is struck dumb, however briefly. He presses the red button on the wall to alert a nurse or a doctor or someone that they’re needed. Then, he reaches out for Eric.

“Bitty! Eric!” He says, grasping his wrists and drawing them down to the bed so they can’t dislodge anything vital. It takes a moment for Eric’s eyes to clear and for a look of recognition to enter them.

“Jack?”

“Oh… Bitty,” He sighs, voice choking up with tears. His arms wrap around Bitty’s shoulders and pull them together. “Bitty, mon amour, mon petit chou,” he murmurs into the crook of Bitty’s neck. Bitty grips him with weak fingers, whimpering against Jack’s shoulder, whispering his name in response.

For the first time in weeks, Jack feels like he can breathe.


End file.
